The Unexpected Gift
by URNP
Summary: Chris visits a friend one night, and gives them a gift that they won't soon forget. Supposedly a humorous story, but it's not. Trust me.


The following is an one shot that I had started to write right before my father had passed last late April, and then slowly added onto it in the following months (and it's STILL not complete). Oh, well.

xxx

On a cloudy night, Chris arrived at Rebecca's apartment. After several minutes of knocking on numerous doors, which led to disgruntled residents answering them, he finally found the right unit. Apparently, the brunette didn't tell him her exact address as she had hoped. Chris tightened his grip on a small box in one hand while he knocked on the door with the other.

After a moment, Rebecca answered the door. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the tall, dark and handsome agent as he smiled. Rebecca wore a green tank top, black jeans, matching flats, and red lipstick. She pushed aside some of her short, dark brown hair from her face with her free hand.

Chris, meanwhile, wore his typical soldier getup, his ever-lightening brown hair cut into its usual style. His friends speculated that he was trying to hide gray hairs.

"Hello, Chris," Rebecca said, rather quietly. "You're… late."

"But it's 8PM," Chris reminded her. He then shoved the box onto her (fake?) breasts, startling her. "I got this for you."

The professor blinked repeatedly, blushing. Realizing that her friend had loosened his grip on the box, she quickly grabbed it before it could fall.

"What is it?" she asked, holding it up to her face.

Chris didn't reply. Instead, he pushed pass her and then entered her home. How rude! He paused only a few feet away from the door, and then looked around.

Rebecca's living room was tiny with only a beige couch, a small, brown end table, a black, flat screen television and a bookcase occupying the space. On top of the end table was a picture frame.

_You would think having a professor's salary, she could afford more furniture, _the agent thought, blinking. _This place looks almost as bad as my home – and I barely remember how it looks! _

This was the first time the agent was visiting the professor's new apartment since she had moved in. As Rebecca turned around, wondering why Chris had barged into her home, he walked over to the end table. She watched as he picked up the picture frame and gazed down at it. The photo showed an eighteen-year-old, flat-chested Rebecca Chambers wearing a skimpy basketball uniform.

Their former captain, Albert Wesker, had hidden that photo somewhere on his desk back at the Raccoon Police Department over 20 years ago. Leon had told her that he had stumbled upon that photo during his first day on the job. What he didn't tell her was that the original photo had faded over time (after he'd gotten much used out of it) and that he had given her a copy.

_I should have known that the job would be shady when my potential employer wanted to take a "sexy" photo of me_, the professor thought.

"Chris," she began, taking a step towards her friend.

He turned to look at her, still holding the picture frame.

"Have you decided on what movie we should watch?"

The agent smiled, "A romantic comedy that _won't_ put us to sleep!"

He lowered the frame to the tabletop, and then looked back at the brunette in time to see her cross her arms over her chest with a smirk spreading across her lips.

"You were the one who'd picked that movie," she reminded him.

"I thought it was an action movie based on the poster," Chris replied, defensively.

"You'd only looked at the thumbnail."

"That should have been enough to tell me what type of movie it'd be."

"Even when the image was compressed?"

The agent nodded before turning and then heading towards the couch. His friend shook her head, uncrossed her arms and then joined him. The couch creaked under her weight, which caused Chris to giggle. Rebecca shot daggers at him.

"My butt isn't that big, ya know," she retorted.

She was right; she hadn't gained much weight in the 22 years that she has known Chris. Her breasts magically grew in size, though. Still, after all this time, he continued to make fun of her butt, partially to get a reaction out of her. Unlike the deceased marine, who had openly desired her caboose, the brunette could never tell if Chris was actually attracted to it or not.

"Besides, I have been meaning to replace the couch," Rebecca added, her gaze still narrowed. "I just have been so busy with my research."

"Yeah, the research to reduce the size of your posterior!" he quipped.

The professor glared at him. How dare he made fun of her work! As she balled her hands into fists, she felt a squared object in her hand, and remembered that Chris had given her a gift. While she looked down at it, Chris snatched up the remote control from a couch arm, and then turned on the television.

"You're gonna make me some popcorn?" he asked, flipping through the built-in streaming apps of the television. "I had to skip dinner just to get here. The families of my teammates kept harassing me, blaming me solely for their deaths. It's not like I'd purposefully led them into traps." His eyes were shifting from side to side, suspiciously.

Rebecca frowned, recalling that the agent had led many teams, of which most members had met an untimely demise. She was beginning to think that her friend was a terrible team leader.

"The bioterrorists were just good with setting us up, that's all," he concluded.

"Chris, I don't have any popcorn," the professor said as she gripped the small box with both hands.

_You don't have food, either?_ Chris sighed.

"I – nay, _we_ \- will go get some from store," she added, as if reading his thoughts. In addition, she didn't want him to think that she couldn't trust him. "But first, I want to see what you got for me."

The agent turned to her, his turn to narrow his gaze. She placed a hand on the top of the box, prepared to remove it.

_Is it… an engagement ring? _Rebecca wondered, eyes widening, her heart beginning to race.

How could that be when the pair had never dated. Besides, the last time Rebecca had worn a wedding dress, some old terrorist was trying to force her to marry him after re-infecting her with the A virus. She always wondered if the forced matrimony was a marketing ploy, and not just because she had reminded him of his late spouse, since his shitty water brand was barely breaking even, causing his company to lay off thousands of employees. Rebecca removed the top, peered into the box – and gasped!

Inside the box was a leech, similar to the ones that she and the ex-convict had seen and fought during that fateful night together. How did Chris get this creature and why was he giving it to her?

"B-but, I thought –" Rebecca stammered, nearly dropping the box. She turned to her friend, an expression mixed with horror and confusion on her face.

"I know you like to probe and prod things like a mad scientist, so I got you that," the older man explained, his expression unchanged. "It can be a test subject in your research. It can go back and forth between each booty cheek, sucking the blood out of them until they are no longer the size of mountains."

Before his friend could respond, the lights suddenly flickered – and then shut off! The room was plunged into total darkness! Chris blinked repeatedly, trying to see, while hearing something hit the floor. Thunder clapped loudly as torrential downpour descended from the dark clouds.

The agent blinked as he looked around the darkened room. Just then, he heard another sound – this time, from behind him. Someone was screaming in terror! Ears ringing, he spun around to see what the screaming was all about.

The professor let out another scream as her friend narrowed his gaze.

"The power's out, Rebecca," he told her. "Relax."

Rebecca shrieked in response, seemingly struggling with something. The older man couldn't see her expression, but he found her response to be very rude.

"If you had paid your electric bill, we would be watching a movie right now." Chris turned, reached into his pocket and then pulled out his cell phone.

He repeatedly blinked as the screen turned on, the back light shining brightly onto his face. Squinting, he noticed that he had a few missed calls from Claire.

_What does she want now? _Chris thought, tapping on the screen a few times to bring up the profile that he had made of his sister's contact information. _I told her I was with a friend._

As he brought the smartphone to his ear, the professor let out another shriek before falling off the couch. The agent turned in her direction, put a gloved finger to his lips, and then shushed her while he waited for his sister to answer the phone.

"Claire here," said the voice, a moment later, coming from the receiver.

"Claire, what the hell are ya calling for?" Chris demanded.

"You'd promised to call me when you got there," Claire replied.

"No, I didn't," her brother whined.

"Yes, you did," she affirmed. "You'd told me that you would start giving me updates on your whereabouts."

"I have never said that," he objected.

"Yes, you did," she repeated.

"Nuh, uh."

"Uh, huh."

"Nuh, uh."

"Uh, huh."

"Nuh, uh."

"Uh, huh."

"Nuh, uh."

"Uh, huh."

"Nuh, u –"

"CHRISSSSSS!" Rebecca hissed, cutting him off.

Eyes narrowing, Chris turned sharply toward the dark silhouette of the professor. Before he could complain to her about interrupting his juvenile exchange with his baby sister, lightening flashed, brightening a portion of the room through a window. Under the brief illumination, Chris noticed something was off about his friend's face. His eyes widened in horror as thunder rumbled outside the window.

From what he could see, it appeared that Rebecca had gotten into a fight - and lost. She had bite marks all over her face and the skin on her right cheek was split open with blood pouring from the wound. Her nose was bloodied, and her bottom lip was busted. Chris wondered if her busted up face was the result of her clumsy butt falling off the couch.

"Chris, you're still there?" asked Claire, breaking her brother's trance.

The agent repeatedly blinked, nearly dropping his phone. "Y-yeah, I'm still here."

Eyes still wide, Chris watched his friend crawl towards him while seemingly struggling with something in the dark. Once she was close enough, Rebecca outstretched an arm toward the older man. To her horror, her friend swatted her hand away! Chris raised his knees to his chest, tightening his grip on his cell phone with one hand while smacking away Rebecca's with the other, as an expression of disgust formed on his face.

"I don't let ugly bitches touch me," he grimaced.

"Please, I need your help," Rebecca cried, still trying to grab his hand.

"'Ugly bitches?' Chris, what's going on?" the younger Redfield asked. "Don't tell me you're mistaking old women for zombies, _again_."

The agent almost missed what she had said due to fighting off the professor. "I'm not, Claire. Although, Rebecca's looking like a middle-aged Crimson Head with her soccer mom haircut right about now."

"CHRIS!" Rebecca shouted angrily. Before she could say anything else, she felt a sharp pain in her arm, which caused her to cry out.


End file.
